“You’re in luck,” said Chirrut, pouring tea into two cups. “Looks like we have some chav after all.”
“Saw Gererra will not be happy with what we did,” Baze mused, as he cleaned out the electroscope of his Morellian repeater. He watched Chirrut carefully, to make sure he didn’t scald himself, but of course there was no need for that.
“What we have done, we have done.”
Baze took a sip. He felt marginally better, the steam curling around his nostrils. The tea was so hot that it was nearly tasteless. They had to drink it quick, because heat didn’t live long in this draughty flat.
Chirrut suddenly tensed.
Baze snapped to attention as well. “What?”
Baze reached for his Morellian, wondering how fast he could snap the dismantled parts together, but before he could, the door splintered off the hinges with a terrific crash.
Four or five people burst into the room, all armed to the teeth, blaster fire chewing their flat to bits, riddling the walls with holes. Baze briefly registered the presence of two Tognath, a few men and a Sabat. Leevan Tenza, Two Tubes–all of them Saw’s men. Partisans.
There was screaming from the other residents of the tenement.
“Don’t resist,” growled Tenza, “for the sake of your neighbours.”
Baze looked at Chirrut. Chirrut shrugged. They both held their hands up.
One of the Tognath pinned Baze’s arms behind his back and shoved a dark hood over his head. He heard them doing the same to Chirrut, the click of cuffs and the rustle of rough fabric coming down over Chirrut’s head, cutting off his indignant “…gaau cho ah! I’m blind!”
They were bundled out of the flat and manhandled into a speeder.
“I suppose you’re taking us to see your boss,” said Baze. “Didn’t you pass him the message that we’ve officially cut ties?”
Tenza sneered. “Small minds like you will never understand our greater cause.”
“Don’t start,” said Baze.
The speeder ground to a halt. As far as he could tell, they were out in the desert somewhere, probably nowhere.
“Get out,” snarled Tenza.
Baze was uneasy now. “You’re surely not going–,”
“They’re not going to kill us. I do not sense that intention around them,” said Chirrut suddenly. His voice was calm, stagnant almost, and it made everyone uneasy. But then again, Chirrut had always made the partisans uneasy.
The fact that none of them answered Chirrut made Baze feel more reassured.
“Stop there,” said Tenza.
“Is there a point to this?” Baze demanded, his voice sounding snuffly through the hood.
In response, the butt of a rifle slammed against the back of his skull and brought him to his knees. He heard a grunt beside him, and knew they’d done the same to Chirrut. Anger billowed through him.
“Gerrera got your message loud and clear. He’s not going to engage in petty skirmishes with locals,” said Tenza. “But the next time you get in the way of his plans, he won’t be so kind.”
“That’s all you’re going to do to us?” Baze said, incredulous. “I’m almost disappointed.”
“Enjoy the walk home.”
Someone pulled off both their hoods. They were kneeling in the middle of the desert. The mesa upon which Jedha was set was a good distance away, and the city twinkled dimly in the distance.
Tenza spat out splinters of the toothpick he usually kept tucked in the corner of his mouth. “By the way, sorry for interrupting your tea party. Here!”
And he unscrewed the lid of a flask and splashed liquid all over Baze and Chirrut’s faces. Baze knew the unwelcome smell of tarine all too well. The partisans stuffed the hoods back on their heads and kicked them forward, so they went sprawling face first into the ground.
Baze spluttered and cursed, his face and hair stinking of tarine.
The men pounded off, the speeder engines fired, repulsors throbbing before lifting off.
“And so we live another day. The Force is good to us,” said Chirrut mildly.
“It was chav!” Baze shouted after the retreating engines. “We were drinking chav!”
Hyperspace pulsed past the windows of the stolen Imperial ship, star systems speed-pulled into burning white stripes across the deep blue. Baze leaned his head against the bulkhead. He would never be used to galactic space travel. Next to him, Chirrut sat still, frowning slightly, staff across his lap.
Rogue One. That was the name they went by now, a bunch of breakaway fighters with a noble cause, supposedly. Running on things like hope. Faith. This kind of weak, unreliable fuel.
And then there was him and Chirrut. A pair of refugees from a dying moon.
Unconsciously, his hand drifted to Chirrut’s shoulder, trailed its way to the back of his neck. Chirrut inclined his head upwards.
“You and me,” said Chirrut. “Is that what you’re thinking again? All that’s left of our home.”
“There is the pilot.” But it was hard to mask the bitterness in his voice. “Three of us, I suppose.”
Chirrut’s smile brightened very strangely. A hint of the old mischief flickered through the shine of his teeth. “I need some hot water.”
Baze ran through the very small pack of supplies he’d hastily put together before they’d left Yavin IV and pulled out a flask. The water in it was still hot.
Chirrut pulled from inside his robes a small sealed packet. He tossed it toward Baze, who caught it. “Tea.”
Baze was incredulous. “You are not serious. The whole city gets destroyed and this still survives?”
“What’s that?” Jyn Erso asks, curiosity bending the usual severe line of her mouth.
“The bane of all the galaxy.”
“A specialty of Jedha City,” said Chirrut, laughing.
Bodhi Rook drifted towards them. “I know that tea. I miss it, actually. I really liked it.”
“They say a true Jedhan’s veins run rich with tarine.”
“They also say that in the time it takes for tea to be brewed, a true Jedhan will have made up at least nineteen new sayings,” Baze answered, gruffly, but he began mixing the tea in the flask.
“Well, this is Jedha for you,” Chirrut told Jyn brightly. He made a sweeping gesture at Baze and Bodhi and the flask. “There’s enough for all of us. You can all be honorary Jedhans for the day.”
They raised their cups together, a quiet toast, a last drink.
Chirrut turned his head in surprise, orienting to the sound of his friend’s voice.
“It’s chav,” Baze said. “Not that wretched Tarine stuff.”
For a second, Chirrut found himself at an utter loss for words. He hadn’t heard Baze’s approach, and Baze was not, generally, a man who did things quietly.
More, he hadn’t sensed Baze’s approach, nor even his presence, and if there was a presence that Chirrut
Îmwe knew in the Force more than any other - more, perhaps, than his own place in it - it was that of Baze Malbus.
“Well, if it’s Chav,” Chirrut said, “I can hardly refuse, can I?”
late night thoughts about the harry potter universe
where are the wizarding primary schools? JKR has said most kids are homeschooled or go to muggle schools, neither of these are entirely feasible options. imagine being homeschooled until you were 11 and then being thrust into a boarding school with apparently hundreds of thousands of kids, or having to suffer through muggle primary school while knowing there’s this whole world of magic and half the stuff you’re learning will not be applicable.
why is there one school in the entirety of the UK? there’s a lot of fucking people in the UK
WHY ARE THERE ONLY 11 WIZARDING SCHOOLS IN THE ENTIRE GLOBE? THERE’S ONE SCHOOL FOR THE ENTIRE CONTINENT OF AFRICA
what even is the wizarding population? is it a million, is it a thousand??? i have no idea. the quidditch world cup is packed, but Hogsmede is the only entirely magical town canonically.
on that note, what’s the population of Hogwarts? according to the math, there’s about 280 students in Hogwarts, but the books and the films give it a much greater scale. JKR said there’s about a thousand students in Hogwarts, but if that’s so, why do we only hear about 10 people per house in Harry’s year? surely at least in passing these other students would be mentioned?
why is there one wizarding hospital in the entirety of the UK? and it’s in London, that might be difficult for some people to get to, what if you have an emergency???
how do most people in the wizarding world have a job? what do you do if you don’t want to be a teacher, a doctor, or work for the government?
and if you want to be a teacher and you’re a wizard in the UK and Hogwarts is the only school, what do you do for work? just wait for the old teacher to die or what?
how do wizarding politics even work? are there different political parties? everyone always wanted dumbledore to run for minister of magic but he was a teacher not a politician, how would that work?
what about wizard college/university? do students literally dive right into complicated jobs right out of what is essentially high school?
why is the slytherin common room in the gODDAMN DUNGEONS? WHY ARE PARENTS NOT CONCERNED ABOUT THAT? HUFFLEPUFF’S COMMON ROOM IS NEAR THE KITCHENS AND THE GRYFFINDOR COMMON ROOM SEEMED WARM AND COZY, WTF SLYTHERINS GOT THE SHORT END OF THE STICK MAN. honestly i don’t blame snape for favoring his house, they deal with a lot of shit.
(After the temple falls but long before they meet Jyn…)
Chirrut stands in the small kitchen area preparing them tea,
and Baze has the honor of getting to watch from his bed rolls. Chirrut is quiet
as he works, opening drawers and waiting for water to boil. “We only have
Tarine again,” Chirrut says over his shoulder. “I hope that’s alright.”
Baze let out a long breath and he shook his head. “The stuff
tastes like it came out of the back end of a bantha, but if it is all we have
then I will live.”
The bright laugh that followed those words made Baze’s heart
swell, and Baze took a deep breath to center himself again. “I should certainly
hope so! I haven’t taken to poisoning your tea yet!”
I’m going to fail him.
The thought hit Baze like a bolt of lightning, hitting him
in the chest and spreading out to his limbs. His entire body felt hollow and
cold in its wake, and he swallowed hard to keep down the fear. He did not know
where the thought came from, but he knew it was true. At some point, Baze would
fail Chirrut, and that would be the end. He didn’t know if that would be today,
or tomorrow, or twenty years from now, but he knew it was true. Baze swallowed
and pushed himself up from the floor, crossing the distance of their shared
The other man did not so much as twitch when Baze’s arms
slid around his chest, pulling at Chirrut until they were touching as much as
possible. “You know, cuddling will not make the water heat any faster,” Chirrut
chided, and then there was a pause. Chirrut’s hand unerringly moved up and slid
into Baze’s mass of hair, cupping the side of his head. “Baze? Is everything
Baze let out a breath he did not realize he had been
holding, tilting his head so that it pushed into Chirrut’s hand. “I’m fine,”
Baze said, hating out tight his voice sounded. Chirrut would discover the lie
in an instant. “I just love you…”
Chirrut’s fingers slid against Baze’s scalp, pressing and
massaging the skin there. His other hand rested on the two linked at his
center. “I love you too, Baze.” Then he was silent again. Chirrut was patient
when he needed to be, would allow Baze to say the words locked inside him in
his own time.
Baze swallowed and he pressed a kiss into the soft short
hair. “I will always follow wherever you go.” It was not an explanation, but he
could feel Chirrut’s body stiffen and then relax.
Chirrut lowered his hand from Baze’s head and he turned in
Baze’s arms, his own snaking under Baze’s and sliding around his chest. His
head rested on Baze and he nodded. “I know, my Beloved.”
Baze let out a breath and squeezed Chirrut quietly. One day,
Baze would fail Chirrut, but Baze would do everything in his power to prevent
5 times Baze had to endure tarine tea and that one time when it wasn’t so bad
Baze was nine and according to Chirrut, he was going to die a very painful death. People with his condition practically thrashed their limbs into knots before they died screaming.
“Unless,” Chirrut said, his face sober. “Unless we brew you one of those cures that Guardian Thanh sometimes makes. I’ve seen the way they do it and I can do the same for you.”
Baze was really not feeling well. He was shivering beneath two blankets, one of them belonging to Chirrut, and yet his forehead was burning up.
“I - think I’ll just go to the med bay and see Guardian Thanh directly.”
But Chirrut insisted. “You wait here. I’ll be right back.”
Chirrut was gone for two whole hours. By the time he came back to the dormitory, the ache in Baze’s muscles had deepened, and his body was a tense, fevered coil beneath the sheets.
“Here.” Chirrut pushed a covered teacup toward Baze. “I got all the herbs from the kitchens and gardens myself and brewed it. You’ll recover in no time.”
“You sure about this?”
“Of course la!”
Baze lifted the lid with trembling hands. The liquid inside steamed, tar-coloured, a lazy slick of oil across the surface. It reminded Baze a lot of beizicao, which his mother used to brew for him in order to ‘prevent sore throat and quell the heat of the body’.
“It looks like beizicao.”
“It is not bak ji chou.”
“I am trusting you on this.”
Baze took a gulp. There was no other word for it. It was, quite simply, the foulest thing he had ever tasted.
“You’re right,” said Baze. “It’s not beizicao.”
He was about to tell Chirrut that it was 10,000,000 times worse, but upon seeing Chirrut’s face, forehead puckered with worry and an anxious kind of hope, he didn’t have the heart to do so.
“It’s–not that bad,” Baze lied. “I almost feel better already.”
Chirrut heaved a sigh of relief. “Oh good. I couldn’t find any gei ji in the kitchens, and there was no more gam chou so I couldn’t make Guardian Thanh’s remedy. But I prayed to the Force and the Force guided me to use other ingredients. In the end, I improvised a bit and mixed the medicine with some tea.”
“This is supposed to be tea?”
“Ya, medicinal tea, mixed with tarine leaves. I heard Guardian Thanh say Tarine is very good for you, expels the toxins of the body and drives out the damp in the bones. The Force guided me to brew this for you.”
“Oh,” said Baze, vaguely. “Thank the Force.”
And because Chirrut was still looking at him with those shining expectant eyes– to please him, Baze took another three sips.
“I’ll bring you another cup,” said Chirrut brightly.
“Thank you for looking after me,” said Baze, wishing he’d run off to the med bay when he’d had the chance. “Truly, you’re my best friend.”
(So I got my hands on Guardians of the Whills & finished
reading a couple of weeks ago, & the main theme of the book is
basically how much Baze hates drinking tarine tea.Hence this nonsense. but…this is all iv’e got for now…
bak ji chou
is a herbal drink. it’s not that bad, Baze is just making a fuss.
Chinese medicine on the other hand…come commiserate with me if you grew up with this lol)
edit: series is complete! all links above! tysm for reading. :)
IM SORRY IM SUCH A NERD I REALLY HOPED THIS WORKED BUT I READ YOUR UPDATE THING AND WANTED TO WISH YOU LUCK! Please take this fanart of Rick trying to help you study while Morty is giving you moral support!
THAT IS THE SWEETEST THING ANYONE HAS EVER DONE TO ME THANK YOU SO MUCH AHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I’m lost for words huaHUAHH!!
I love you so much!! I want to kiss you, hug you, and smother you with love! <33 I can’t thank you enough, like seriously!! Take all my love and blessing tarinous!! *bear hugs you*